Interruptions
by Renee101
Summary: Continuation of Heartsong. Follow Haldir and Elharma as they explore love and life in Middle Earth They learn patience, among other things. Read Heartsong first, or be confused. R for sexually explicit scenes...eventually
1. Intro

"Inturruptions"

By Renee 101

Sequal to: Heartsong

Caution: Rated 'R' for sexual content, 

Please read Heartsong first!

DISCLAIMER:

The characters, concepts, and ideas in this story belong primarily to J. R. R. Tolkien, except for the character Élharma, and the concept of the Miraz belong to me, so please ask before you use her in any of your own stories. DUH.

DICTIONARY:

Refer to 'Heartsong' Chapter one.


	2. Attack

Chapter one: Lorien in Danger

Haldir and Élharma stood in the glade, wrapped in each other's arms, completely unaware of the happenings in all of Middle earth. 

Elharma leaned, her mind so full of love and longing that it was practically numb, against his solidness, hoping that it would help her to stay attached, somehow to the ground. He held her, just as she had yearned for for so long, tightly in his arms, and the simple gesture sent waves of pleasure from feet to her head and back again. He tightened his hands around her slender waist, and pulled his head back, out of the kiss that had become their momentary eternity.

"Say it again." He said, his voice a soft murmur against her cheek.

"Yes, Haldir. Yes, I will bind myself to you." She whispered, kissing his demurely angled jaw line, " I love you."

He felt as if her lips as fire upon his skin. His heart soared, becoming lighter than the very air they breathed. He knew that he would never grow tired of hearing those words. He dipped his head, catching those full, soft lips with his own, fully intent on claiming them as his own, when, he was, all at once, wrenched back into reality.

"WaHOO!" Came the piercing cry.

Suddenly, the peace and reverie was broken and the two lovers broke apart, one with a grin and the other looking for murder. Élharma, not minding the positively soaking and absolutely bedraggled state that Haldri was currently in, laid her cheek demurely upon his chest, smiling as the younger elves descended upon the couple.

Haldir was trying, quite unsuccessfully, not to think of the many ways to kill his brothers. He knew that he was scowling, despite the entirely euphoric experience of the previous moments. Élharma, sensing his frustration, looked up at him and grinned, the warmth of that smile spreading through her entire body. He could not help but return the gesture, for her joy was absolutely intoxicating. Intoxicating until he realized that his treacherous brothers were not going away.

Orophin, who had been standing beside his twin Rhúmil, let out an incredible yell, a battle-cry of victory. 

Rúmil slapped Haldir on the shoulder, "Finally! It most definitely took you two long enough!"

Haldir could only stand there, not knowing weather he should strangle them there or wait until he was alone to kill them. Alone was better. And slowly. Yes, slowly and painfully… VERY painfully… With knives…yes, knives…or ropes! Ropes were even better…

All at once, the entirety of his attention was wrenched from his brothers to a traitorous little hand that had stolen, unnoticed by all, under his tunic where it had just begun to delicately trace small circles on the sensitive skin of his back. He looked down at Élahrma, who was smiling at him a little too innocently.

She knew what effect her actions were having on the elf that was holding her close. It was written on the slightly reddened cheeks, and in the sharpness of his gaze. She was a bad, bad little elf, and the truly mischievous part of her spirit reveled in the fact that he could do absolutely nothing about it, or risk getting teased by his brothers! 

He tried desperately to find, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the ability to articulate a coherent sentence, somehow ridding himself of the pests that had attatched themselves securely to him and his melmë. Unfortunately, his mind had lost all possibility to react to anything but the naughty fingertips that were playing oh-so-tantalizingly upon the small of his back. He both loved and hated the slow torment brought on by such a simple act, and he desperately wished that they were alone… Yes, alone…if they were alone, he would begin by discarding of their clothes, then he would…. *OWCH!!!* She had pinched him! She had actually pinched him! And his brothers were standing less than three feet away! He glared down at her, his mind calling adamantly for payback. Sweet, tormenting payback. Payback where he would make her beg for him to stop, but not stop, and go, all at the same time. 

She grinned at him guilelessly, almost daring him to react in front of his contemptuous brothers. 

Rúmil and Orophin were chattering about something, he was not paying any attention. Something about how glad they were for the new couple, and asking where they would have the ceremony, and when, and by whom… Élharma answered the questions, her mask of innocence hiding any indication the torment that she was currently putting Haldir through.

Her velveted fingers traced the flesh just above his trousers, burning, searing, lighting a fire that delved into the depths of his stomach, burning, constantly burning. He wished frantically for her to touch more of his skin, to feel her fingers on every inch of his being; and he also yearned to touch her, to feel the creamy silk of her skin beneath his fingers, his lips…

Finally it seemed as though they would be rid of those annoying brothers of his, and yet, just as they were turning to leave, another surprise overtook the two lovers, this one not so welcoming. 

An elf, his face covered in sweat and spattered with blood came rushing headlong into the grove. He stumbled into Haldir, his eyes momentarily clouded before he recognized his captain.

"Hal…" He gasped, "The…The…Bor..Lor..der.   .iena..tt ack!!!!. Big…at   ..nor..th  bor    dersa..ta..ck!" The elf gasped in a panic.

Haldir's eyes widened, "Who?"

"M…e    …n." Came the dreaded reply 

Suddenly coming to life, he whirled to face his brothers, yelling as he began sprinting in a southerly direction, "Come! We have to inform Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn! Élharma- help this soldier to the house of healing: he is wounded!"

 Once again, the small grove of trees became silent, all noises but the sounds of nature dying out from the forest.

Élharma turned to the elf, who had collapsed upon the soft moss in exhaustion, "Come, lets get you to the healers." She said tenderly

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"It is dark days, indeed that men would attack such a place as Lothlorien." Galadriel said in her soft, melodic voice.

"Indeed." Celeborn agreed gravely, " Haldir: Go and gather the archers and the swordsmen, the foot soldiers and the riders. We must defend our borders."

Haldir bowed. Where there had been, just moments before, feelings of love and elation, there now resided a sense of foreboding and anxiousness. Just as he was turning to leave, the Lady Galadriel put her hand out and lightly touched the fabric covering his arm, causing him to suddenly halt and turn to face her, curious.

"Congratulations, my dear March Warden." She said with a joy-filled gleam in her eye.

He dipped his head in acceptance of the Lady's words. He wondered for a moment at how she knew, as there were only four people who knew of his impending bonding with the maiden Élharma. Suddenly, it struck him. Of course!!! Élharma did, as he frequently forgot, she did have some, unexplainable link with the lady!

He wrenched his mind to the present. He had a job to do. He was calling forth the guardians of Lothlorien in the city of light's hour of need. That was his job.

It was with these thoughts that he left the halls of Caras Galadhon, purposefully making his way through Lorien.

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Well? What do you think? PLEEEEEASE let me know! I have a general idea of how this should go, but I can already see glitches in my story, so your feedback would be much appreciated.


	3. Downfall

Chapter 3

Elharma sat gently cleansing the elf's wounded arm in comfortably lucid water with a soft cloth. She washed away the dirt and crusted blood; her gentle hands working loose the filth that had encrusted in the gash. The healers had given her this task of cleansing and bandaging the elf's lesions from the battle that he had come from. She was grateful for the task, no matter how menial, for she desperately needed something to take her mind off of the worry that had crept into her consciousness. The healers bustled about, preparing for the influx of wounded elves to arrive from the battlefield. 

The elf winced, and Élharma realized that she had been letting her mind wander.

"My apologies." She said with a blush

He bit his lip slightly and nodded in acceptance.

There was a moment of silence as she spread a clear save over the wound, taking care not to contaminate the now- clean flesh.

"You look just like your mother, wearing that." The elf suddenly said.

Élharma's eyes snapped to his, curious as to how he knew her mother.

He smiled, "I used to reside in Lindon. I remember when you and your mother would come to visit." He explained simply. But then he paused, studying her thoughtfully, "But… I may be mistaken, it was so long ago, but I would swear that the crown that your mother wore was different…somehow…" His eyes lost focus for a moment.

She proceeded to wrap the elf's arm in bandages.

"Well, it will come to me sooner or later," he smiled.

She finished, wiping her hands on a towel and turning to leave.

"Thank you." He called after her.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

Thoughtfully, he rubbed his fingers over the snug cloth bandages

_            Why did that crest seem so familiar….?_

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She hurried out of the healing house, a blush creeping upon her features. She had completely forgotten about the circlet that Haldir had placed upon her head, and for some reason it embarrassed her to be seen in public with it. For what rationale, she did not know.

On the contrary: She did know. Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, in the recesses of her thoughts, she still deemed herself unworthy to bear to the public eye a testament to her heritage. She still deemed herself unworthy to wear as a testament to herself a lineage she considered herself thoroughly undeserving of.

She shook herself mentally. It was just a simple Mirithril circlet, nothing more. And Maeglin had been a small, insignificant realm that, in its very short existence, had been ruled in tyranny and evilness. She deftly slipped the offending coronet off of her head and slipped it into a fold of the dress she wore. 

She sat, visibly shaken, upon a bench just outside of the house of healing. A tear found its way down her cheek. Anwakala, one of the first genre of healers, happened to come out at that precise moment. The healer, concern written across her lovely features, promptly settled herself by the elf maiden.

"What is wrong, young one?" She asked softly.

Élahrma, her voice catching in her throat, responded hoarsely, "He is out there. Haldir. My Haldir. Out there. Fighting. Putting his life on the line…" She gasped, and turned to face the gently features of the healer more fully, "Anwakala- I cannot bear to loose him! I just can't!"

The healer, a knowing smile playing upon her lips, replied softly, "Oh, Élharma. Sweet, gentle Élharma. Do you have such little faith in his abilities to defend our borders?"

Élharma shook her head, "No, that is what I am afraid of! I have such faith in his abilities that I know he would willingly die in battle than to retreat and allow a single foul creature further into Lorien than outside the borders."

Their meeting was broken when one of the servants of the house rushed up, breathless.

" I.. I … Ineed ….I need…Élharma. I need Élharma. Th..The lady request…requests her presence..im..im..immediately.!" The elf gasped

Élharma rose from her seat and asked, "Take me to her."

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Haldir, followed by two hundred of his best foot soldiers, one hundred and fifty archers, and a hundred mounted soldiers, descended quickly upon the battlefront. With a trained eye, Haldir scanned his opponents.  There were a good four hundred men, southrons and some of the Rohiiran. There were surprisingly few archers on the opposing side, but they were renown for their fierceness with the broadsword. It was said, in legend, that one southron broadsword could slice a full- grown wild boar in half in a single swing. 

            '_Of course'_, Haldir thought, as he drew his own elfin sword, '_that is only a myth'_

He turned to his troops, "Archers! Three waves of fifty! Foot soldiers to the left where they are the weakest, and you mounted soldiers, split into two groups: one take the left side and one half circle the back and block their escape," The warriors let out a cry, and Haldir continued, "GO! Teach these men exactly how unwise it is to attack the realm of our lady!" 

He let out a fierce battle cry, and with a feral light shining in his eye rushed headlong into the midst of the battle.

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Élharma hurriedly followed the servant to where Galadriel was waiting in one of her inner chambers. Kneeling, she kissed the top of the Lady's hand, asking, "What do you wish of me, milady?"

Galadriel, pulling the maiden to a stand, replied, "I need the strength of your mind. Our warriors are greatly outnumbered, though they do not know it yet, by the armies of men. I will be aiding them."

The maiden, confused, asked, "I will do whatever you ask of me, although I do not know to use any Elvin magic."

The lady shook her head, "I don't need you to know anything. I just need you here, your mind will act as a magnifier of sorts, and with the three of us," Celeborn stepped through a doorway to stand solemnly beside his wife, finishing, "We eliminate the risk of exhausting my Queen. You see, the effort of using the power of the elves takes such a great effort that Galadriel alone, though she has the strength to do it, would be utterly exhausted of all her life force if she did this alone."

Élharma, still slightly confused, said, "I am at your disposal."

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They were everywhere. 

He slashed his sword through the neck of the one on his right, killing it instantly. A movement. He whirled and parried, deflecting the bone-crushing blow by a hairsbreadth from it cleaving his skull into two pieces. He took little time in disemboweling the opponent, his elfin abilities making his movements faster than the human was able to respond to. To his right, one of his soldiers, a brave warrior by the name of Gontholin fell head-first to the ground, having been overwhelmed by the simultaneous attack of three formidable men. It angered Haldir, witnessing such a loss, and it fueled the ardor with witch he thrust his sword into the black heart of the next southron he battled. The vile creature fell to the ground lifeless. 

Having been backed to a tree, he deftly ran the almost perpendicular length of it, showing his unmistakable attachment to Arda through his lineage as a Sylvan elf. He stood brazenly in the branches, swiftly firing arrow after arrow into the masses, always careful not to harm one of his brethren. 

With dismay, he watched as wave after wave of men fell upon the dwindling numbers of elves. There were close to a thousand men now, and those were only the ones he could see. Everywhere he looked, men were battling elves, and though the elves were fighting fiercely, they were greatly outnumbered.

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The three elves stood in a small circle, their hands held vertically at shoulder level, each palm lightly touching the palm of the elf on either side. Each had their eyes closed, and each was completely unaware of the world around them. 

In unison, they began to chant the age- old words. To Élharma they were familiar, yet extraordinarily completely foreign. Incredibly, though, she somehow knew the words, the intonations, and her own voice, uttering the unfamiliar sounds, echoed in her mind.

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Haldir felt it, the Elvin power so coveted by men. Galadriel. She was strengthening him, and he drew on that strength as he leapt out of the tree into the midst of the scrimmage. So empowered, in fact, were they, that in little or no time had he, and the small band of the hundred remaining surviving elves, reduced the grand army of men down to little more than a small band of thirty or so warriors. 

As his sword flashed before his eyes, he felt not only the power of the Lady of Light, but also that of another. He listened, opening his mind to that energy, that force. He smiled faintly, despite the fact that he had just slaughtered another of the attackers, as he recognized his beloved, his love, Élharma. 

            _I love you         _She kythed into his mind

            _I love you_         he keethed in return

He brought his blade to bury deep into the back of another man, causing the offending vile creature to drop to the ground. There were only a few left. He could taste, almost tangibly the soon- to- come victory.

An impact

The world paused

He looked down in amazement as the green feathers of a Numeranorian arrow protruded, shuddering, from his chest. 

He lifted his eyes, confusion beginning to cloud his mind. This was not how it was supposed to end. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was all wrong…!

Before him stood Vidalan, holding a still- quivering bow, a sneer etched on her face.

Just before the darkness overtook him, he heard her laugh, "You really didn't think it would be so easy now did you?"

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Elharma dropped her hands, screaming, breaking the link with Galadriel and Celeborn. Before either could protest, she was out the doors and through the courtyard, running on winged feet, a sword already drawn in her hands. 

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PLEASE REVIEW!

I beg you with everything that is good in this world- pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review! Let me know- be it good or bad- what you think!


	4. Tears

Chapter 3 – Tears 

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She careened into the glade, there were dead men and elves strewn thickly upon the forest floor, but she paid them no heed. She was intent, focused on one thing and one thing alone. She searched, reaching her mind through the whisperings of the trees, focused on finding HER. The one that had dared to threaten the life of Élharma's beloved. She was close, incredibly close. And strong, if Élharma had not been so engaged on finding her prey, she would have stopped in awe, wondering at the strength of this numenorian's mind. But now was not the time. Now was the time for bloodshed. For death.

She keethed also Haldir; he was alive, barely. Celeborn and the elves from the house of healing were following her to the battlefield. Desperately, she hoped that they would make it, that they would come in time to save him. She could not think of that now, for she had a task at hand. If she thought of Haldir now, lying there upon the forest's cold floor, his crimson blood staining the dirt red, she would loose focus. And that was not something she could afford to do.

She fell into a familiar trance, a state of mind totally unattached from her emotions, and so in-tune with her surroundings that she practically became part of it. 

Élharma faded deftly into the shadow, letting that old, inborn instinct take control of her body, transforming her into the dreaded assassin. 

There. She had found them. Vidalan, standing triumphantly in the grove, her pale eyes searching the forest around her purposefully. Élharma, her mind filled with an unmistakable blood lust, stepped boldly into the sunlight, and in one swift motion drew the dagger from its resting place at her waist, hurling it with all of her might directly for the offending woman's skull.

With ease, Vidalan batted the blade away, and it fell to the forest floor with a loud clatter.

"So," The woman scorned wickedly, "His precious little elf whore has come to bestow her vengeance upon me."

The woman, a sneer written across her face languidly drew another arrow into her bow, "But now it is my turn to strike. And you are defenseless. Too bad." She paused, bringing Elharma's heaving chest into her sights, "Where do you want it? The chest for the traditional death? Or in the head for a more painless route?"

Élharma did not answer.

"Or," The woman laughed cruelly, lowering the tip of the arrow slightly, "How abut in the stomach, piercing your liver so that you live in agony for several days before your pitiful body finally gives up?"

Élharma lowered her chin until it almost touched her chest, and simply gazed at the woman from half-lidded eyes.

"Don't look at me that way!" Vidalan screamed, a crazed twinge worming its way into her voice, "I could kill you right now!"

Élharma, her voice menacing challenged, "Go ahead."

Vidalan's face flushed in anger, "No! For you don't deserve the mercy of such a quick death!"

Élharma advanced by a step, closing the distance between the two females to less than ten feet, her voice was low, dangerous, "What are you going to do?"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" The woman shrieked, her voice catching harshly in her throat, and as she let the arrow slide from her fingers she spat an incoherent curse at the arrogant elf standing in front of her.

Élharma saw it, as if it were in slow motion: The trembling fingers loosing the blackened shaft, the gleaming tip streaking through the air. She whirled; snatching a fair elfin bow from the ground, and with one fluid momentum seized the incoming arrow out of the very air and loaded it.

All of this happened in less time than it took to blink an eye, and suddenly Vidalan found that she was not looking at the dead form of the elf wither before her eyes, but once again down the length of her arrow, this time it's point was aimed at her chest.

"Die, bitch." Élharma snarled fiercely as the metal point buried itself in the woman's heart.

With a shocked expression, Vidalan sank to her knees, "No… no…but..you.are.just.a……girl!…."Choking as blood began to bubble from her mouth.

She hit the ground heavily, and Élharma listened in the silence that ensued as the woman's heart slowly stopped beating.

With a start, she recalled exactly the scene that had enfolded to bring her to this place, and spun towards her fallen love.

She rushed to him, kneeling she cradled his head in her lap. Tears flowed freely from her face. 

He was unconscious, but his heart was still beating and his lungs were still circulating life-giving air into his body. He was alive, but barely. The heartbeat was weak and irregular, and the breaths were so faint that they were barely perceptible.

Celeborn, followed closely by the healers rushed into the glade, quickly beginning their healing ministrations.

Celeborn gently lifted the maiden by her shoulders, drawing her into a comforting embrace.

Élharma melted, exhausted, into his comforting, fatherly embrace, allowing his strong arms to support her as the grief washed fully into her mind.

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Later, outside the healer's house, Élharma paced impatiently across the polished floors.

"What is taking so long?" She demanded harshly

Ulmo, one of the house servants sent from Celeborn replied softly, "They are doing all they can."

The maiden grimaced, "I understand."

It was a few more hours before the door opened and the healers silently shuffled from the room.

Immediately, Élharma pounced, "Well? How is he!"? She demanded impatiently.

Ulmo, who had never seen the maiden so flustered, tried to hide the grin that spread across his face.

The healer, slightly startled at the maiden's outburst gently replied, "The march- warden lives. Now we must wait for his body to heal."

"Can I go see him?" Élharma asked, her voice rising in the joy of hearing those words.

"Of course." Came the reply.

Élharma, in her fervor, practically ripped the door from its hinges in her plight to get into his room as quickly as possible.

She quickly came to a halt at the side of his bed. There he was, laying there, his skin slightly paled, his eyes closed, his pale hair resting teasingly upon his shoulder. Her eyes caressed the sharp angles of his muscles, as they lay relaxed against the soft bedclothes. Such strong muscles. 

He opened his eyes.

She sank, speechless to the chair that was sitting adjacent to his bed. Once again sobs ripped through her body as she leaned her delicate forehead against the bed, the anxiety and worry of the last few hours falling down in her mind, crushing her with the force of their release.

Haldir watched her, his beloved, as she sank to the chair with a look of utter and complete exhausted relief. Her face appeared almost stricken as it came to rest on the edge of his bed. Her pain pulled at his heartstrings, and he searched for a way to reassure the one so close to his heart. 

"Do not worry, my love. What? Did you really think that I would leave you?" He murmured playfully as his hand stroked the golden head.

She lifted her tear-streaked face, "I had hoped that you would not." She said, a ghost of a smile showing on her features.

He stifled a yawn, and her eyes went wide.

"You require rest. I must go." She stated, rising to leave

"I would rest so much better if you would stay." He said, catching her hand in his own.

He scooted, wincing, to one side of the overly large bed. Patting the now empty space next to him, he lightly suggested, "You look as if you could use some rest yourself. Come: Let us rest together."

She did not have to be told twice. Careful not to jostle him more than necessary, she crawled onto the plush bed. 

They slept, wrapped in each other's arms for the next two days, their minds and bodies healing from the previous traumas.

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Galadriel leaned her head against the doorframe, watching the two elves in their peaceful slumber. Celeborn approached, and wrapping his arms about her waist, gazed at the two in question.

"They have found such peace, it brings me so much joy." She said softly.

"Mmmm…? They sure have." He murmured softly, "I remember when we were like that. Care to revive old memories with me?" He suggested teasingly as he boldly planted a kiss on the delicate column of her neck.

Galadriel jabbed him in the ribs, "Celeborn!" She looked around, "Stopit! People might see you!" 

He raised an eyebrow, absorbing the blow and continuing with his playful kisses down her neck. 

"CeleBORN!" She said, wriggling from his grasp.

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Élharma awoke first, lazily opening her eyes to the sun's golden rays filtering through the leaf- framed windows. The air was crisp, so she snuggled closer to Haldir's sleeping form, relishing the feeling of his strong arm about her shoulders. Remembering that this was the day that the bandages would be taken off of Haldir's chest, she was anxious for him to awake. 

Haldir's conscious mind drifted in that pleasant place just between sleep and wake, the place where one remembers dreams, yet sensations from the physical realm filter into ones mind. 

He felt her move gently against him, snuggling closer than ever before. He thanked the Gods for the crispness of the morning.

"Haldir…" Her sleepy voice whispered into his mind, "Wake up, my love." Her soft breath tickled the lobe of his ear.

Feeling particularly malevolent, he stubbornly refused to open his eyes, teasing, testing her to see her reaction.

He felt her lips descend upon the ear again, but this time they brushed the sensitive tip as she murmured fluidly, "I know you are awake."

He did not consciously respond, yet was coming more and more aware of the growing pressure within his trousers

She looked at him warily, sensing his stubborn tease. She grinned evilly, all-to-eager to meet the challenge. 

She leaned to his ear once again, this time whispering, "Don't make me do something you will regret." As her torturous lips yet again found their way to his skin. This time, though she let her tongue dart out and trace its fine point, running her lips against the defiant ridges.

He was seeing fireworks, so strong were the emotions that her actions elicited. His breath caught in his throat.

She continued her exploration, planting one lightly torturous kiss after another along his jaw line until she came to his mouth. There, she did not kiss him, as he was expecting, but hovered, so close that he could taste her, a hairsbreadth from contact. 

Seductively, she whispered, "You asked for it."

He fought the impulse to reach up and pull her into a kiss deeper than they had ever experienced before, stopping the feather-light torture that she was putting him through. But he stifled that impulse, curious as to how far she would go to 'wake' him up.

His mind was suddenly aware of her hand, her sweet yet traitorous hand that had begun tracing a lazy, languid pattern on his chest, down his stomach, circling his naval with lazy strokes.

His eyes snapped open, his vision filled with her mischievous, guileful, wicked grin as her hand delved into his trousers and closed mercilessly around his arousal. 

He was hard, solid against her fingers, she could hear his heart stumble over its rhythm, and his breath come in shorter gasps.

"I am awake." He whispered hoarsely.

"Really?" She challenged innocently, "Not awake eough…"

Both elves jumped as the door swung open and some of the healers bustled in. 

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hehehe…. I love being evil. I feel evil right now. Please review.

Well? Can anyone guess as to WHY I called this story "Interruptions?" he he he! Anyway, if you are wondering, I really do have a plot, it is just taking some time to develop it. It would be easier to make the plot clearer if they all would all just behave for half of a second!


	5. voices in the headagain

Interruptions

Chapter 5

**Voices in the head…again**

(((Authors note: Élharma has a conversation with herself in this chapter. I used one / to indicate one voice and two // to indicate when she answers herself. I hope it isn't confusing for you. Happy reading!)))

Élharma tried, but to no avail to calm the wild pounding of her heart. Nor could she erase the look of panic and confusion that had come unbidden and unwanted upon her face. 

/Since when was I so bold? Since when did I…do things like…that?/

Of course, he HAD looked absolutely delicious sitting there under the semi-transparent sheets, his creamy skin practically glowing, begging for a touch, a caress, anything. 

/ absolutely no excuse for my actions/. She mentally chided herself.

And the response that her quite uncalled for behavior was…was…well, lets say at least unexpected. She had felt empowered, excited, intoxicated by the very feel of his raw skin bared beneath her fingertips. 

That is what confused her the most, was her reaction. She had felt, and still felt an indescribable hunger, a need that was deeper than any hunger that she had ever felt possible. A desire for more of him that was so incredibly decapitating that it froze her heart in her chest while, at the same time burning it with a fire of unexpressed passions that was steadily building in the pit of her stomach. This feeling was completely and totally new, an incredibly foreign experience. She did not know weather she was enjoying these feelings or was completely repulsed.

So strong was this building, this anticipation, this incredible hunger that she began to question weather or not elves go crazy, for at the moment she truly doubted the validity of her own sanity.

Realizing that she was standing there like an idiot staring at the same spot in the ornately carved floors, she searched for something else to concentrate her attention on. Something beside him. She did not want to look at him at the moment. He was just to..to..to something that she did not know how to explain. For her he was the thing that her mind, body, heart, and even her spirit needed, ached for, desperately. And this confused her. Confusion was definitely not a good feeling. She did not want to feel confused... So she looked at her hands. 

They were trembling. Trembling! 

/My hands are trembling…MY HANDS ARE TREMBLING!!?!! My hands absolutely under no circumstances ever tremble… Ever! I must be going insane./

All of these thoughts so far had come from the very logical, very ordered part of her mind. Now, another strain of thought drifted into her consciousness. This strain was in no way logical or ordered. In fact, this part of her mind was the heart of chaos, the epitome of madness.

_//You can analyze and deny your actions all you want, sister, but you know that you enjoyed that little…ahem, shall we call it a little expedition? //_

She was utterly appalled and shocked. Did that thought just come from somewhere in her mind?

/We shall call it no such thing. A slipup, perhaps. A moment of insanity, definitely. A moment, that is all. It wont happen again!/

The voice, if she could call it that, laughed sarcastically,

_//Of course._ And pigs fly. Oh yes, you enjoyed that so very much. You want to know what else you would enjoy? Oooo, and its something I am sure that he would enjoy it so very much as well?//__

/No! No, no, definitely not. I absolutely don't want to know. No. You can be quiet now because I don't want to know. No./

_//You are fooling yourself. I have a grand idea for you, and there are three common little words that will help you to remember: Lips and Tongue.//_

She was shocked, now more sure than ever that elves truly do go insane.

/WHAT?/

_//You heard me. Let me enlighten you, since you are being so incredibly stubbornly narrow minded.//_ The voice harrumphed. 

/I'm not hearing this…I am not hearing this… I am not…/ She mentally chanted, hoping to drown out the voice.

_//First, he seemed to really enjoy your light little kisses. Did you feel how his breath began to quicken? And did you feel how hard he was when you touched him? It turned him on. We will play on that effect. First, you kiss his chest. Now, don't really kiss kiss him, it is more like you just hover above his skin, only coming close enough that he can feel the presence of your lips a fraction of a micron away from his skin//_

/I am insane/

_//No your not._ I assure you. Even the prestigious Galadriel has her moments. You just have chosen to ignore them. Where was I? Oh yes. You trail your kisses down his chest, never fully touching him with your lips. Keep kissing your way down his body, make sure you don't miss any spots…//__

/I am not hearing this! I AM NOT hearing this!!!/ She thought, beginning to feel a little panicked.

_//Yes you are. And calm down, nobody but you can hear me. Goodness. Where was I? Oh yes, my favorite part. You have now come to his member, his manhood if you will allow me that much. He will be aroused, but not enough. Keep your touch light, his skin will be hyper-sensitive. Kiss your way down his arousal, never actually touching him fully with your lips, merely suggesting, hinting at the presence of your skin against his. Now, he will be hard, and warm against your lips, lightly wrap them around him, but only lightly. He will probably move, try to deepen the contact. Don't let him.//_

/Oh dear…/

_//keep your touch light._ Use your lips, your tongue, your breath to tease him, sometimes high, sometimes low, until he begs, screams, cries for more, for deeper contact with you.//__

/But I don't want to make him cry or scream or beg/ She begged, denying the fact that these evil little suggestions actually sounded somewhat appealing.

_//Yes, you do. Besides, it would not be like a cry of pain, but more of unfulfilled passions. Trust me, you will enjoy it.//_

/I don't trust you/, still denying how fulfilling it would actually be to hear Haldir beg.

_//you have to. I am part of you, and you cannot make me go away.//, _obviously knowing the acceptance that had spawned in some forgotten corner of her mind.

/Fine. Just don't interfere to much. At least not right now. I have things to do today and need to be able to focus./

_//My time will come. I can wait//_

/Fine./, although she was not entirely sure what she had just agreed to.

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Haldir watched Élharma as the healers bustled in and began cutting the bandages from his chest. She had never done anything so bold before, and he was incredibly curious as to what her reaction would be. As for his reaction… well, lets just say that at the moment his trousers and the sheets were both a blessing and a curse. Damn those healers. 

Of course, as soon as they had entered, he had been sure to assume the socially appropriate calm exterior. Granted, it had been incredibly difficult, considering the very awkward position they had been caught in. Emotional calm was also difficult at the moment because the image that was caught stubbornly in his head was of what their intense, passionate lovemaking would be like. Definitely not helping his situation. Definitely.

Now, he watched her, gazing at her, drinking in her very essence. The vision that stood before him was breathtaking, more than just something he saw, it became his sustenance, bearing more importance than water, more importance than food, more importance than the very air he breathed. His body, his mind, his heart and his very soul wanted to touch her, to taste her, to know every inch of her body and mind. 

His eyes found her face. She was staring at the floor, emotions flying like a whirlwind across the creamy contours of her expressions. Not, of course, obviously. No, Élharma was much to poised for something like that. What he did see was very subtle clues, mere suggestions indicating only to those who knew how to read them. The slight movement of the eyebrow, the posture of her shoulders, and even the way her lips tensed almost imperceptibly. Above all else, it was her eyes. Her eyes always gave her away. To the average passer-by she would appear almost bored, her face would seem blank. But not to him.

To him, what he saw in that face was first shock, he could see the astonishment and disbelief in every muscle, in the way her hands hung limply at her sides, at the arch of her brow, and in the emerald green hues of her eyes as she stared glassily at the floor. This quickly changed to an appall, a disgust.

One of the healers blocked his view for a moment. He waited patiently, knowing that she would still be standing there when the elf moved out of his way.

When she did, Élharma was looking at her hands… they were…trembling? This astonished him. She must be very shocked. He had never seen her hands tremble. And her eyes, her eyes once again shown with a different hue, a different lighted candle burned in their depths. This time it was a pale lavender. Introspection. He had seen that look many times before. She was listening to her mind, most likely deciding how to react.

Quite suddenly she raised her eyes to meet his, and what he saw there sent flames of fear to the pit of his stomach. Her eyes were lighted with a fire, an energy that he had never seen before. Well, not fully seen. She may have let this new emotion out a few times before but only slightly. But now it was there in full- force. And it made him afraid. Her eyes burned into his with a feral flame of a deep violet, and the muscles in her alabaster cheeks tightened slightly, lifting her full lips in an almost malevolent smile. 

And while it instilled in him a deep and incredible fear, that smile, however mischievous, made his blood pressure begin to rise and the familiar burning in the pit of his stomach boil at an almost unbearable level.

He tore his eyes from her gaze, suddenly finding it incredibly hard to breathe. He looked elsewhere, desperately keeping his precarious hold on his calm. 

Thank goodness for the healers. They had just pulled the bandages away from his chest, and were bustling about again, this time readying to leave. He looked down, and noticed that Élharma's eyes followed his.

It amazed both of them to see only a very faint, very light scar where there had been an arrow embedded deep within his chest. The mark was in fact so faint that it could hardly even be called a scar. He moved his arm, stretching, testing the underlying muscle for kinks and tightness.

Seeing him move in such a way reminded Élharma that her own body was complaining, her own muscles were tight, unused to lying flat for long periods of time.

"Care to join me for a walk?" She asked, refusing to let the silence in the room become as awkward as she was feeling.

"I would enjoy a walk," He replied cautiously, not sure how to react. He didn't really want to go for a walk, he wanted her to join her in the bed. That obviously wasn't going to happen.

"Come on then." She said playfully, spinning on her heels and heading out the door.

He rolled stiffly to the edge of the soft bed, his muscles complaining with every movement. "Wait!" He called with a groan.

Élharma was out the door and a few hundred paces down the path when Haldir finally made it outside and into the sunshine. "Hurry up!" She called insistently over her shoulder, flashing him a glimpse of a tantalizingly mischevious grin..

"Slow down!" He called, trying unsuccessfully to be annoyed, "Try to remember that I was just SHOT a few days ago."

She turned, skipping back up the path merrily, "And should I or should I not remember that you were given a completely clean bill of health only a few moments ago by the healers?" She asked impishly, a teasing grin filling her features, "Or should you go back in there and have them tell you to stay away from…certain… activities?"

He could not help but smile, her rambunctiousness was contagious in the highest degree, "I am feeling much better, thank you." He replied, darting past her with a sudden burst of power from his long, muscular legs.

"Hey! You… you get back here!" She cried indignantly, "I thought you were convalescing!" 

She ran, overtaking him quickly. Just as she was about to pass him, though, his hand snaked out and caught her around the waist in midair. Before she could say anything, he had pulled her close, wrapping both arms securely around her waist. 

She was breathing hard, her lungs trying to compensate for the sudden demand for more oxygen. 

"Well, it looks like you caught me." She said with a grin.

"Indeed." He whispered as his mouth lowered swiftly to hers. 

His lips found only empty air.

"Or not." He heard her laugh from somewhere behind him. He whirled, but only caught a fleeting glimpse of her as she darted, still laughing down the path.

He would not be denied this time. They were alone, finally, and he was intent on beginning again what she had so sweetly started earlier that morning. He pursued the giggling elf as she headed further down the hard- packed dirt path. 

Being the faster one, he overtook her quickly enough. Of course, that was only half of the challenge. The other half, the bigger half, was actually catching her. And while he excelled her in pure speed, she far surpassed his ability to maneuver in tight spaces. One moment she would be on his right, and the next she would be calling him from the trees above. 

This was a maddening game, she was always there, teasing, always so tantalizingly close yet always managing to be just out of reach, just past his fingertips. 

After some time, Haldir found an opening, she faltered, her foot unable to find purchase on the sloping path. He pounced, feeling the welcome weight of her body against his as he once again wrapped his arms around her waist. This time, though, he did not stop there, letting his momentum knock her lightly to the ground. She squealed, wriggling against his onslaught. 

"Not this time, my little fiend." He growled as he straddled her outstretched form. Incredibly, her hands somehow found a handhold and he knew that if that was allowed she would somehow find a way to evade him yet again. She also knew this, a fact made known to him by the feral indignation that was written playfully on her face. 

"Oh no you don't!" He grinned, catching her wrists easily in his hands and pinning them against the forest floor above her head. A look of disappointment fluttered across her face, and her lower lip stuck out in a surly pout.

"What are you going to do with me now?" She asked innocently, her chest heaving from their recent excursions.

"Now," He replied easily, "I am going to kiss you."

He bent towards her, his aching lips finally molding themselves against her soft, responsive ones. A surge of what can only be called hunger coursed through his whole body almost as if he had been hit by a lightning bolt. His body begged him to deepen the kiss, to know more of that sweet mouth. He traced the soft line of her lips, asking, begging access. 

And she gave to him, letting him explore, probe, caress, she mirrored his actions until they were caught in a duel, a dance of sorts.

Finally, but only when his brain overpowered his hunger, demanding for a fresh supply of air, did he pull back, gasping desperately. 

Élharma lay there, her chest heaving as she inhaled ragged breaths, her eyes had clouded over by the overwhelming emotions that were written into that single moment of heaven. Of course, Haldir barely gave her time to recover from his assault upon her senses as he quickly proceeded to kiss her, this time trailing kisses down her neck, tasting, nibbling at the sweet flesh of her collar bone and along the unforgiving edge of her dress. She felt him nudge that edge lower, exposing more of her skin to his merciless conquest.

Her hands buried deeply into his silken hair, it spilled gently over her shoulder as his mouth continued its expedition. Wait- when had he let her hands go? She felt the lacing at the front of her dress come loose. That would explain it. 

He stopped. Why did he stop? He couldn't stop. She wriggled against the steel hold of his thighs as he held her to the ground. He raised his head, his blue eyes finding her clouded mirithril ones. She smiled faintly and caressed the sharp angle of his chin, relishing the soft smoothness of his skin beneath her fingers. Suddenly, something caught his attention, something in the woods. He dipped his head again, but only briefly, sipping again at her lips as he whispered, "Someone is coming."

She grinned through his kiss, "And you don't want to be caught in such a…compromising situation?"

A laugh rumbled quietly from deep within his chest, "No, I would rather not."

"We should go somewhere," She paused, giggling breathlessly, as he lifted her onto her feet, "Where we wont be interrupted so much."

"I was thinking the same thing," He replied.

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please, please, please review! Oh, and I am so sorry for the long delays, Read my Bios for updates


	6. the plot thickens

Interruptions 

Chapter six

**The plot thickens**

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(((( A/N well, here is another one, hope you like it.))))

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Élharma felt the solid wood of the door against her back. She was caught in another incredible, passionate kiss, Haldir's mouth and tongue assaulting her senses yet again. They hadn't made it inside. Almost, yet not quite. She reached under his shirt, stroking his sweating, sensitive skin with her hands. He groaned, his hips grinding against hers, making her aware of his almost painful need. He felt her smile.

"The ents would call you hasty." She whispered, nibbling lightly at the sensitive tip of his ear.

"They would be correct in their thinking." He murmured, Searching blindly for the latch that he knew had to be somewhere on this blasted door as she caught him in another maddeningly seductive kiss. He was desperate to rid them from the confines of their clothes. VERY desperate. He found it. Finally. 

At that moment, Élharma felt something. Something in her mind. Someone was approaching. Quickly. She stepped lithely from between Haldir and the door just as the door swung inward and Haldir was catapulted into her quarters. There was a crash, and the door closed gently behind him.

"Galadriel, a pleasant surprise. What brings you to this part of Caras Galadhon?" Élharma greeted, just as the Lady of light stepped into view. With her was the Lord Celeborn and, quite surprisingly, the highly esteemed Glorfindel. Élharma greeted each one with a nod, quickly gathering what was left of her whit.

The lady appeared rather flustered, if one could call it that. Truthfully, she appeared the same as always, Élharma was just tapping into the lady's emotions.

"There is an emissary here from Durin's people," Galadriel began, quickly getting to the point, "And he apparently does not speak Westerneese. I need you to come and act as a translator."

The request was simple enough, so Élharma smiled slightly and bowed, "Of course, I am at your service, milady." 

Of course, no matter what the request had been, Élharma would have gratefully accepted. 

At that moment, there was another crash and some distinctly elfish swearing echoed from behind Élharma's door. Galadriel raised an eyebrow and Celeborn tried to hide the grin that threatened to spread across his face. Haldir emerged, his hair and face and the front of his tunic covered with a myriad of colorful, wet paint.

Élharma stifled a laugh. When Haldir saw Galadriel and Celeborn standing there, he quickly hid the indignation that had lighted onto his features. Straightening, he stiffly addressed the maiden, who was quickly turning many shades of red as she swallowed the giggles that rose in her throat, "You could have warned me."

She gasped, "Oh Haldir. I am so sorry. I completely forgot! Unomial asked if she could paint the view of Imladris from my window!"

He glared at her. Silence swept across the group. A large drip echoed through the passageway as blue paint dripped from Haldir's hair to land loudly onto the floor.

Élharma smiled innocently, "Besides, you really do look rather good in blue."

Glorfindel turned away from them, his shoulders shaking with unbidden mirth. Galadriel, the only apparently unaffected one of the whole group addressed Haldir, "I am in need of Élharma's aide. When you feel recovered enough to resume your duties on the borders, report to Lord Celeborn."

Haldir, still glaring at the maiden started slightly, his attention suddenly drawn to Galadriel, "What? Wait… I thought…The ceremony…," He sputtered, confused.

Galadriel smiled lightly, "Of course: the bonding ceremony. After we clear up this slight problem with the dwarves, Celeborn and I will perform your ceremony."

Celeborn asked, "Will you be wearing that lovely hue of blue?"

Haldir reddened, trying very hard to mask the frustration, indignation and the sense of utter loss that he was feeling. 

"As you wish, milady. As you wish." Haldir said to Galadriel as he excused himself with as much grace and dignity as he could gather.

The lady put her hand on Élharma's arm, "Come, we have work to do."

Élharma was curious, "How is it that dwarfish emissaries are not speaking any westerneese? It seems kind of odd, don't you thing?"

"Well, they are speaking some form of westerneese, at least as far as we can tell. Unfortunately, we cannot understand enough of what they are trying to say to make any sense of it." Celeborn replied, "It seems an offshoot of standard westerneese with much dwarfish influence."

Élharma cocked her head and chuckled, "No, my lord. Forgive me if I sound out of line, but you are quite mistaken. I will have to hear them speak for myself, but I suspect that they are not speaking westerneese at all. From what it sounds like, they are speaking in the old traders language: westron."

Their conversation centered greatly around the traders language, with Celeborn arguing that the language westron of having died out a few hundred ages back, and Élharma countering that a strain of it was frequently used in the dwarfish communities. Galadriel and Glorfindel listened, interested, but did not participate in the banter.

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Haldir, on the other hand, was not in any kind of good mood. His mood was uncharacteristically dark and moody, the pent up energy that had built within him but was being denied release sat like soured milk at the pit of his stomach. He walked stiffly, his face drawn into a harsh scowl as he gathered the things needed for a bath. Luckily, he passed very few elves on his way to the baths, for it was time for the evening meal.

As he slipped into the warm waters, he silently thanked the Valar, for he was in no mood to entertain any kind of company. Well, any kind of company other than Élharma. He wanted, no he needed to entertain her sweet company at the moment. His mind went to the maiden. No matter what she had done or could do to him, he could not stay angry at her for long. She was just to irresistible. In his mind he saw the vision of how she had looked that morning, standing there appearing particularly dangerous; he saw her as she had lain beneath him in the forest, her skin gently flushed and warm against his lips. The firm softness as he had held her wriggling hips between his thighs. The image that had haunted him all day. The image of their bodies hopelessly entwined, hot and sweating in the peak of their passions.

As he thought of her this way, he had begun to unconsciously stroke himself, once again bringing himself to the very brink of the release he needed so badly. 

Suddenly, a female voice said, "You look like you could use some help." As he heard the unmistakable sound of a body slip into the water.

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Hmmmm…well? You know the drill: Push the little blue button that says review on it and give me some feed back. Good? Bad? Like it? Hate it? I read and treasure anything and everything. Let me know if you have any brilliant ideas for what sort of interruption you would like to see in the future of this story. Oh, and I know this chap is short…so sorry.

Thanks!

Renee 101

PS: Thank you all for your prayers and hopes. Unfortunately, the insanity in my life is still getting worse by the minute. Keep an eye in my Bio for updates. I am able to update it more than I can update my story. Thanks again for your patience!


	7. concerning dwarves

Inturruptions chapter 07

"Concerning Dwarves"

A/N: I know- it took me long enough! So sorry. Well, good news- I am back now, for good this time, and I am going to continue writing the saga of Haldir and Élharma. Well, here it is!

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**"Concerning Dwarves"**

It was a beautiful afternoon in Lothlorien as Elharma, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, and Glorfindel made their way to the westernmost borders of Caras Galadhon. The sun was shinging, its warmth penetrating to the very bone and its pure light turning the heavy leaves of the mallorn trees into things of the purest gold. The air carried on it scents of the late autumn foliage; sun-ripened apples, dewberries, daffodils and the tantalizingly heady aroma of honeysuckle. Birds were bursting forth in a myriad of harmonious melodies, tickling the ear; and one could hear a spring gurgling its merry way down one of the hillsides. 

A guard met them at the border patrol, "We have escorted them thus far as the Lady commanded." He reported with a stiff bow.

"Excellent. Have you made them comfortable while they waited?" The guard nodded and turned, leading the foursome to the small guardhouse a small distance away.

From inside, Elharma could hear the various sounds of the daily activity; although these sounds were underscored by the presence of deep, almost bellowing voices; a rare sound among the elves.

Not wanting to appear out of order, Elharma whispered almost imperceptibly to Lord Celeborn, "Westerneese. I told you."

The lord did not answer, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the side of his mouth twitch in suppressed humor. Glorfindel raised a quizzical eyebrow. Unfortunately, there were few in the elfin kingdoms that appreciated the challenge of a good argument. Appreciatively, Glorfindel and the Lord and Lady of the golden wood were some of those exsclusive few and it was rather refreshing for one's intelligence and knowledge to be challenged in such a way.

Suddenly, the door burst open and out strode three smallish, burly forms clad in sharply cut armor and adorned in long, thick, wiry beards and hair. Of course, upon seeing the Lady Galadriel, they all four dropped to their knees and were silent.

Elharma knew that Galadriel was examining their hearts with the power of her mind, and Elharma wondered why the Lady needed her at all.

"Speak your names." She commanded thoroughly.

This was spoken in elvish, and it took a minute of pointed glances from the others in their party for Elharma to respond to this sudden change in approach.

"Wh..What," She stuttered slightly, recovering her composure, "What are your names, the Lady of the Golden Wood: Galadriel wishes to know."

The dwarves started and stared at her, "Great is the day when the tongue of the dwarves is spoken from such fair lips as yours." One said softly. She had indeed spoken in Dwarvish, one of the languages that she was fluently aquainted with.

The leader, as was appearant by the ornate braids and weaves in his hair, spoke, "I am Thorin, second son of Durin, commander-in-chief for Durin himself. These are my traveling companions," Gesturing to each in his turn, "Knor son of Gmarth, and Malron son of Malfor."

Elharma translated this to the elves before turning back to Thorin, "I am Elharma, handmaiden to the Lady of the wood Galadriel," She indicated the lady," With us are the Lord Celeborn," He nodded, "And lord Glorfindel, chief advisor to the Lord Elrond of Rivendell. What brings you so far from your homestead, dear friends?"

"Alas, for our hunting party has all but been destroyed when we found that our precious home had been invaded by the wretched black spiders. Twelve of us set out four months ago to begin gathering game for the meat we will need this winter, and there are only three of us left. The wretched beasts have infiltrated our homesteads and we have come hither to request the help of the renound powers of the elves, yes, we have traveled land and water seeking the help of the Lady of the golden wood." 

All three bowed again to their knees and fell silent.

"Come, friends, for you are weary. My handmaiden will see to your every need, all you have to do is ask and she will bring whatever you wish. Come, " Galadriel said softly, "and rest, for our borders are well- guarded."

Elharma translated and Malron spoke for the first time, his voice softer than that of his companion, "All we require is for one more look on your golden head and to hear the beauty of our native toungue spoken by such as the voice of an angel."

This brought forth a laugh, not directed at the dwarves but as a noise made in agreement to their assessment of the situation.

"Rise and rest. It is almost time for the evening meal and the council of Caras Galadhon shall hear your request in full this eve." Celeborn said as he stooped and kissed the foreheads of the dwarves.

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"Have you the jewel?" a hushed voice whispered.

"offfffff courssssse. Where isssss the girrrrrl?" Came the hissing reply.

"She is on her way. Patience." Murmured the first voice.

"Sssssshe had betterrrrr beeeee." Came forth

"The plan is still in effect. We cannot risk any hasty actions now." Was the answer.

There was a soft rustle and the darkly hooded figure was alone again. It raised its head to look mournfully on the soft glow of the full moon, "Manwe forgive me…"

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Haldir did not open his eyes. He knew who had just entered the water. It was one of those damned maidens that had unabashedly thrown herself at him ever since he was of age. Cockey, shallow, extremely stupid…

His thoughts were interrupted, "Haldir?" Came the voice dripping with seduction.

"Go away." He said stiffly.

"But…" She mourned

"Do not make me repeat myself." He hissed unforgivingly.

"As you wish." She replied, slipping back out of the water. Suddenly, her voice turned cold, "But remember, you are mine, even if you do not know it right now. You haven't seen the last of me!"

He was shocked by this declaration, and his eyes snapped open. This was a very bad idea. Very, very bad, since she was still standing there, flagrantly displaying her perfectly proportioned body. He immediately turned around, chastising himself for falling for her very shallow trap. He did not breathe again until he heard the cursing footsteps of her retreat.

God! This elf was uncommonly stubborn!

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Well? I know it is a little short, sorry! PLEASE REVIEW! 


	8. changes

Inturruptions

Chapter 08

**Changes in the Wind**

By Renee 101

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The flickering firelight highlighted the gentle mahogany hues in the ornately carved woodwork of the library bookshelves. Within the shelves, the leather bindings of the hundreds of books rested comfortably in their respective spaces; the supple rawhide both absorbed the light, yet reflected it in a most serene manner, the musky scent of leather and paper filling the room with its heady effects.

Glorfindel leaned back against the comfortable, overstuffed chair, gazing moodily into the fireplace. The library was usually such a relaxing place, with its thick rugs, its polished redwood, and the fire that always seemed to be flickering in the fireplace…But not tonight. Tonight, the peace eluded him as he brooded, his lips pressed tightly together in an unmistakable purse, and his long, slender fingers steepled in front of his face. The familiar nagging headache was all he had in means of company, it sat in the shadows of his mind like a cobra, ready to strike at any moment and unleash its deadly poison. He felt lines crease his forehead and made a conscious effort to relax the muscles therein. He felt haunted, made uneasy by some memory…some…thing…he knew it contained important information, yet it was elusive as a stray parchment that had been caught up in an afternoon breeze, so near, yet absolutely unattainable. 

Something about the maiden Elharma that afternoon was nagging at him. He had seen something there, something that he did not recognize, something unfamiliar. This, of course, was, in all practicality, an insane thought; considering that Glorfindel had personally known the maiden for practically all of her life. Of course, there were those few times that she and her mother Elensar had gone from Lindon and visited Maeglin, and there also were those years in the aftermath of Elensar's death; but with those exceptions made, Glorfindel had been present for virtually every moment of the maiden's life. But it was, incredibly, something about her that was undeniably foreign about her that day...no no no, not foreign. The thing that was haunting him was actually something about her that conjured a memory… a memory that refused to surface, something from a long time ago… It reminded him of…of…damn! why couldn't he put his finger on it?

 He knew, somehow, that the thing that mercilessly plagued his mind was not yet another way which the maiden resembled her mother. Ironically, there was little about the maiden that did not look almost exactly like her mother, her hair, her build, her whit and charm... Little, yes, but one of those things were the maiden's eyes. Her mother had borne the characteristically sky-blue eyes of her lineage, a heritage passed from her grandfather to her father and then on to both Elensar and Elrond. No, the maiden's eyes were unique, having the remarkable ability to be all colors or no color at all. It was these eyes that haunted him this night…Needling him…haunting…begging… Stirring some forgotten memory from the depths of his mind like one would wake a sleeping child, gently prodding, calling into the foggy depths. Incredibly, the more Glorfindel pondered this…this… thing that was disturbing his peace, the more he came to recognize the haunting elusiveness in resemblance to a memory that he had attained in his first life…interesting. 

He watched the flickering firelight, searching, pleading into its golden depths, hoping against all hope to loose himself in the welcoming glow…but the blessed freedom never came; his mind refusing to release his consciousness from the nagging, teasing, maddeningly elusive taunt that his memory was holding just out of his reach…

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As a matter of fact, the maiden was, at the moment, sitting calmly in Galadriel's garden talking with the visiting dwarves while they waited for the evening meal. They were intelligent, cunning and whitty; characteristics that, according to popular belief, was decidedly lacking in their respective race. Elharma was surprised, pleasantly so, as she talked with the travellers. 

While they exchanged social chatter, she entertained her intellect by studying their race, a culture that, with the exception of the language, was absolutely foreign to her.

Thorin was taller than the rest, and boasted of a long red beard cropping from a substantial, bulbous nose beneath twinkling, friendly eyes from under thick, bushy brows. On his head he wore a solidly-made helm of forged steel. His clothes were colored in browns mostly, his generous boots a dark grey and the lining of his cloak a deep forrest-green.

The next one, the smallest of the three, was named Knor. Of course, he made up for his lack of height with a generously muscled physique. He vaguely reminded her of a box, the same width as of height and the same height as depth.- His hair (it amazed Elharma the amount of hair on these curious little beings) was black, but streaked lightly with grey at his temples. Elharma thought that it gave him a very regal air and complimented nicely the grey tunic and brown boots.

The third, Malron, was quite outspoken, although not unpleasantly so, since he was generally cheerful and full of compliments. He was of a lighter build than his companions, and his hair and beard were not as long as the tresses of his counterparts, also bearing fewer of the ornate braids that the other dwarves proudly sported. Elharma assumed that these signs meant that he was the youngest of the group, as he also appeared a little naive. 

Unfortunately, her mind strayed…these social discussions were, unfortunately such a bore. Her mind reached out to Haldir… but was interrupted when she heard: "Elharma…what does that name mean?" 

Thorin had asked the question, snapping the maiden to the present.

"Pardon me?" She asked, slightly disoriented.

"What does your name, Elharma, mean?" He repeated, ununciating the words carefully.

"It means 'Treasure from the stars' in quenyon." She replied, "Actually, it is not really my name." Thorin tipped his head quizzically as Elharma continued, "It is just a nickname, something that is easier for the elves to pronounce than my real name is. My real name is D'immaren…" 

"A miiranish name?" Thorin interrupted quickly, his attension caught. His companions scowled at him for interrupting.

"Actually, yes," Elharma responded, pleasantly surprised, "You know the mirranish language?"

"Well no," Knor countered, "The miiran have become legendary, myths of our history. An especially prominent legend is one of a miiran by the name of D'imma who would come, bidden by her elvish rider, when our families were in need of aide. It is only by that legend that we recognized your name as miiranish."

Elharma was intrigued, "As a matter of fact, I was named after the miiran D'imma. The rider you spoke of would be my mother, Elensar. She is the only elf in the existence of all middle earth who can touch the creatures." 

The dwarves perked, "Is she here? Might we meet her?" Malron asked excitedly.

"Alas," The maiden responded mournfully, "She died many ages ago."

Thorin placed a gentle hand on Elharma's arm, "We grieve for your loss."

"Do you…" Knor asked, suddenly shy, "Do you…bear the mark?"

Elharma nodded and smiled faintly, "I do."

"Might we see it?" Malron asked quetly. The other dwarves nodded enthusiastically.

Elharma, perceiving no danger from the friendly beings, stooped down and pulled her thick blonde curls over one shoulder. A miniature, though roughly calloused finger, caressed the skin surrounding the mark of the miiran. Suddenly, though, it jerked away, surprise eminating from all of the dwarves as the fingers came into contact with the denoted flesh.

"But…" She heard a quiet gasp.

"Yes…it is made of a metal." She replied in an understanding voice.

"Incredible, the metal has fused with your skin, becoming almost a living thing." This was Thorin, "And can you…can you summon the beast? Can you call forth the Miiran just like your mother before you?"

She straightened, shaking her head, "Nay, kind sir. The lady Galadriel is helping me learn how, however."

"We wish you the best." Malron offered gallantly.

Elharma smiled demurely, "Thank you. Unfortunately, I must bid you farewell, for I must prepare myself for the evening meal. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

Malron was about to say something, but Thorin quickly interceded, "No, you have been kind enough. Now go, we will be waiting here for you, for we dearly wish to escort you to the dining hall."

Elharma smiled and departed, laughing inwardly at how delicately Thorin asked for her help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

She had just finished pinning her hair up when there was a knock at her door. "Come." She commanded softly.

Haldir entered, his hair wet and disheveled, his clothes mussed. She took one look at him and burst out laughing, "Haldir, my love, you look absolutely absured!"

He did not say anything, his only response was to walk purposefully over to her, gather her in his arms and quiet her laugh with a kiss that left her quite breathless. He wrapped his arms around her so possessively and held her so close that she thought that her ribs might just crack. She pulled sharply away from his desperate lips, "Haldir, you are hurting me…" 

A series of emotions crossed his face and he relaxed his arms, "Sorry my love. Is that better?" 

She smiled, "Much," and laid her cheek on his chest, relishing the feelings that his very presence elicited from within her very soul, "What is wrong, my love, that would prompt such uncharacteristic public dishevelment in you?"

He kissed her ear, and said, "I have just missed you. That is all."

She smiled, and placed a soft kiss on the soft colour of his cheek. "You had better go. It is almost time for the evening meal, and I completely expect you to be my escort."

He scowled, "I can think of better things to do…"

She giggled again, "But you must wait, my love! I am needed as translator for our honored guests tonight."

He groaned as she accented this statement by tucking her fingers in the waist of his trousers and teasing the flesh there. Sure as the sun was in the sky was he thinking of better ways to spend the evening.

She laughed and pushed him away, "THAT, my love, will DEFINITELY have to wait until another time."

He left after another kiss that was, in his opinion, entirely too short.

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I know that there hasn't been a whole lot of romance in the last two chapters, but your time is coming…

PLEASE-

**_REVIEW!_**


	9. Uneasyness

Interruptions chapter 09

**Uneasyness******

By Renee 101

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Élharma watched mournfully as Haldir's tall form retreated from her view by means of the closing door. She stared for a moment at the dark mahogany frame, her mind lost in the lingering taste of his soft yet demandingly desperate lips. She yearned with every fiber of her being to be embraced by those strong, sinuous arms again. Actually, she would be content to stay there forever. And she would be… eventually. As soon as all of the proper arrangements were made for the complete union of their minds, bodies and spirits.

But not now. Now she had the call of duty to answer to. Now, she had the laborious task of dressing for a formal dinner, which, she desperately hoped, would be rather brief; but seriously doubted she would be granted such luck.

She went to the large closet, pausing to contemplate the disheveled appearance of her love. He had obviously not been completely forthcoming as to the reason for his untidiness… it did not take any special abilities to see that... she would have to ask him about it later. 

She focused her attensions on the task at hand…

The contents of her closet was meager, she had declined on numerous occasions the opportunity to expand the contents of her wardrobe, valuing the convenience of simplicity and a limited choice. 

She had heard rumors of some maidens who required literally hours to view all of their garments and finally select one appropriate to wear…although she seriously doubted the rumors that stretched it into days. Élharma viewed this as a serous waste of time and a very silly habit nonetheless. 

Her wardrobe consisted of only the amount of clothing that she deemed necessary, in all practical purposes. Now, she briefly shuffled past the four riding outfits and the five or so informal dresses to select one of the four evening gowns in her possession. It only took a moment to decide; and, pulling out one of her favorite dresses of a bold lavender made of thick, crushed Lorien silk, she quickly donned the gown.

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she nodded slightly in appreciation at the simple yet elegant cut of the dress against her tall but well-formed figure. It had a high neckline and long, billowing sleeves; perfect for an occasion such as this where one wanted to appear properly dressed yet did not want to be distracted by any unwanted male attraction. Likewise could be said of her hair; it was pulled up in a practical twist yet not so practical to appear inappropriate for a formal dinner, it allowed a few loose curls to trail down her shoulders and pool at the small of her back.

Thus said, she quickly slipped her feet into slippers of a soft suede leather, luxuriously dyed a mousy gray. Steeling herself for what she would face in the ensuing evening, she departed from her chambers.

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Haldir had just about reached his flet when one of his galadhirrim approached. Haldir's soft, dreamy expression was soon replaced with one of concern.

"Good evening captain." The younger elf, Celassar, addressed formally.

"What is the problem, Celassar, that you would leave your post at this hour of the evening?" Haldir reproached gently.

The younger elf blushed and Haldir made a mental note to lecture him later on the disadvantages of such flagrant displays of emotion.

"I have been sent by the officer in charge this night. He requests that reinforcements be sent immediately to the borders." Celassar quickly defended.

Alarmed, Haldir demanded, "What has happened?!?"

Celassar promptly interjected, "Nothing, yet, sir… But Lutinent Orophin says that the forest is uneasy, that the trees seem to be anticipating an attack of some force."

Haldir sighed inwardly, he had involuntarily prepared himself to hear the worst, "Excellent," He replied with a faint smile of relief, "Orophin has a good head on his shoulders… Runs in the family, you know."

Celassar just stared at him blankly.

Haldir continued, "Go now, to the soldier's mess hall and tell them that I am going to the borders and I expect at least a hundred and fifty soldiers to arrive there before me."

The sentry bowed stiffly and took of at a ground-covering trot. 

Because he was already dressed in the attire of the Galadhirrim, he gathered a few provisions from his flet and stopped only briefly to straighten his tunic and braid his hair. Departing swiftly, he now headed towards the area where Orophin and his regiment would be patrolling. Fortunately, his path crossed with one of the household messenger boys… Icillis or Icaellis or Ecillis or something like that.

"Icillis, hasten to the lady Élharma and bring her word that I shall not be attending the evening meal tonight."

Icillis, a tall lad and very bright, looked curious, "She will want to know why, sir." 

"You are correct. Duty calls. I am headed to the borders." Haldir said softly.

The lad jerked his chin in a quick nod before sprinting into the halls of Caras Galadhon. Haldir thought it quite ironic that in less than half an hour he had sent two elves running away from him…

As he ran swiftly to the border, Haldir took a moment to gaze appreciatively at the night's full moon. His mind went to Élharma… How her bronzed skin would turn a silvery gold in such a light. What, he wondered, would she wear tonight? She did not have many formal gowns to choose from… would it be the flaming red one with the silvery brocade or the soft green velvet one? He hoped that it was not the one that resembled crushed violet petals, for even though that one was the epitome of modesty with its high collar and long sleeves, it was the most becoming of her slender yet distinctly feminine curves…

Feeling the blood begin to pool in his groin, he tore his mind from such an alluring image to the tasks at hand, for he was nearing the border and would not be caught… _compromised in front of his underlings._

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When Alcillis (he had not bothered to correct Haldir of his name; Icillis was his younger brother and they were often mistaken for each other) found Élharma just exiting her flet, he delivered Haldir's message. 

Élharma thanked him and sent him on his way with a smile and a blessing. Alcillis retreated with the hopes that Haldir knew what he was missing; for this evening Élharma looked absolutely breathtaking.

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Even though Élharma refused to allow her roiling emotions show; they were still there. She understood Haldir's call for duty, for she herself was fulfilling that same calling on this beautiful evening. Unfortunately, this did not quell the sudden pang of fear that stabbed at her gut. A fear that he would never return. A fear that he would leave her for the halls of Mandos even before they had chance to start their lives together. 

Of course, she understood that for hundreds of years Haldir had been patrolling these borders and had come away unscathed… yet the fear lingered…

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a collective gasp from a little ways off and the silencing of several small but heavily clad footfalls. 

Her sharp eyes quickly snapped to attention. "What are you doing here?" a sharpness coming unintentionally into her voice.

"Milady! Ye look…"Malron began.

"It is just…" Knor interrupted

"When you were late…" Thorin started.

"When you were late, we came looking for you. And I must say, milady… your beauty outshines any jewel we could find beneath the earth!" Malron finally finished.

Her eyes softening, Élharma allowed the faintest hints of a smile to show on her features, "Come, my dear friends, you are the honored guests of this evening's meal, so we mustn't be late!" The dwarves nodded in silence, for they had been rendered rather speechless. This amused the maiden greatly, even though she did not show it; for, despite her rather short acquaintance with the dwarves, she had come to an understanding that they were rarely silent.

They entered the hall precisely on time, and the other guests at the high table rose and bade their greeting as Élharma and the dwarven travelers approached. 

After all had been seated and the dinner had been served, the conversation turned mostly towards the dwarves, and Élharma barely touched her food between translating for the dwarves and the elves. Of course there were instances where she did not have to, for some of the elves were proficient in westerneese.

"Tell us your tale, dwarves, that we might know weather you come as friend or foe." Celeborn asked amiably, despite the suspicious undertones of his words. 

Thorin cleared his throat and took a long draft of the dark wine in his glass, "Well," he began, hesitating; he had understood the suspicion in the Lord Celeborn's address, "It began almost a year ago. We went out to gather foodstuff for the long winter in the mountains. We were only gone no more than one turn of the moon when we arrived to our home in the misty mountains to find that the wicked spiders of Melkor had invaded our home. We fought bravely but most of our compatriots were killed in the ensuing battle,"

Here he paused to take another long drink of the wine.

Malron, unable to stay silent for long, jumped to his feet, the chair on which he had been seated in toppling to the floor. This, unfortunately, did not add to the impressiveness to the tale which now was his, for he was substantially taller when seated ON the chair. He took this all in stride, not faltering a beat, despite the fact that his nose was now only a few inches from the offending tabletop.

"It was horrible! These spiders were huge, and they belched darkness blacker than the black of the deepest pits from their mouths, and they would hang the drained carcasses of our wives and children from the doorway…"

Thorin coughed in an annoyed manner and interrupted with a glare at his companion, "as **I was saying…" Malron blushed and quieted.**

"All that is left of our houses are us, and though others of our race are more than willing to take us in, we much desire to return to the place of our births and the births of our children. Is there none here who are willing to help us in our quest?"

The hall was silent.

Galadriel spoke up in that characteristically soft yet demanding voice, "That is yet to be decided, dwarf friends, for it would be with great heaviness of heart that I would send any of my own compatriots into such a fey as you have explained…" She continued speaking, though Élharma did not hear. 

What Élharma heard was the words that the lady kythed into her mind

_            //I will be sending them to Tharanduil he has had experience with these spiders... They will be in need of a translator… would you be willing to go?//_

Élharma met the Lady's pointed gaze.

\\ _If__ you ask it of me, I will go.\\_

The lady's brows furrowed slightly, even though she still addressed the dwarves.

//_That is not what I asked, mellon, and you know it//_

\\ _that__ is all of an answer that I am willing to give\\_

// _Élharma…//_

\\_ you are aware,, my lady, that I am to be bonded soon and it must be only more than natural that I would be hesitant to leave my love\\_

_// I see…//_

Élharma felt the knot in her stomach tighten, but keethed to the lady and to the lords Glorfindel and Celeborn,

_\\ I will accompany these dwarves to Mirkwood where they shall meet with the lord Tharanduil. He knows the ways of these spiders and may be willing to send some of his company with these dwarves to aide in their plight. I will go as far as Mirkwood with them, and, I pray, the Lord Glorfindel accompany me, for from Mirkwood I would travel to Rivendell to gather those of the last homely house who would be present at the bonding ceremony of Haldir and myself\\_

Celeborn, Galadriel and Glorfindel all nodded silently. This is the decision that they would press towards when the council of Caras Galadhon met the next morning.

Élharma looked down at her plate of steaming food, her heart feeling as if it would break, a sense that she had just sealed her own doom rested heavily on her shoulders.

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As Haldir neared the borders, he sensed it…. A foreboding…. An uneasiness…it was…restless, agitated, troubled, apprehensive, ill at ease, tense... Something was decidedly not right. Having quickly ascended to the flet where his brother Orophin was standing on duty, he glanced restlessly through the soft silvery boughs of the mallorn trees.

"You feel it, don't you?" His brother's hoarse voice whispered

"I do." Was all Haldir could say… an anxious tenseness gripped his body and mind, almost alarmingly overwhelmingly….but he finished, "Have the backups reported in?"

Orophin nodded, "150. Thank you, my brother."

And they waited, most of the night, for the attack that everyone seemed to be anticipating…

But it never came. The uneasiness passed without any sign of the enemy's foul minions. Orophin finally turned and broke the stillness, "Haldir, it appears I was in fault at calling you…" 

Haldir interrupted, "When the forest is so uneasy, it is never wrong to call for reinforcements. Something definitely happened this evening, even if it was not at our borders."

Orophin nodded, he understood and appreciated Haldir's support. 

Haldir stirred, his joints aching slightly from standing tensely unmoving for so long. He let forth a call that signaled all of his elves to depart back to their own homes.

Arriving at his flet, he noticed that the evening meal was still in full-bloom and for a moment considered attending; this was soon quelled, as he found that, in his flet, had been place a rather large, heavy bathing tub of the finest porcelain! 

He dipped his finger in the water, disturbing some of the red rose petals therein and found it to be still the perfect warmth for bathing. The soft yet insistent scent of roses filled the room with a sweetly heady scent, almost immediately causing his knotted and stiff muscles to relax and his mind to calm.

There had also been placed in his flet a small table next to the bathing tub. Upon this was a soft green towel, also sprinkled with the scarlet petals of a rose in full-bloom. Atop this towel was a note, sealed by the unmistakable seal that Élharma uses, the image of a miiran in full flight, beneath the tengwar letters vala and óre. He opened the papyrus…

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To my Dearest love, Haldir:

You must be tired.

I hope you don't mind

I took the liberty

Of having this tub

brought To your room.

You are forever 

My love

My heartsong

Élharma

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Haldir's eyes misted over as he read the softly scrawling script that this letter had been written in, the simple yet elegant style of her words touching his heart. There she was, sitting there, entertaining the laborious task of entertaining… Dwarves of all peoples, and she thought to bring him a means of relaxation. 

As the warm water caressed his skin, he allowed his mind to wander, remembering the first time he had met the maiden that was now the singular thing in this world that he loved more than live itself…

"… my horse has slain many would-be assailants when they tried such a stunt." The moment when he first laid eyes upon her exotic beauty would be seared into his memory forever. She had been cold, distant, and utterly unattainable… yet he yearned for her from that moment. He had fallen in love, the kind of love that would not be denied, the kind of love that would last forever and all of eternity.

The water became tepid, turning uncomfortably cold. He grudgingly rose, dripping, from the depths. Drowsiness enveloped his mind, and he dried himself with the cashmere-soft towel, his body relaxed and ready for slumber.

Not bothering to dress, he stumbled to his bed and sleep overtook his mind even as his head descended upon the silken pillows.

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Thorin was telling another tale… Élharma wondered if they could keep this up all night. She knew that the other elves could, she knew that even she could keep it up. Of course, it was not physical or emotional sleepyness that prompted her desire for rest, it was the uneasiness that had descended into the pit of her stomach, sitting there, waiting for the moment to rise up and overwhelm her senses…

Finally, she saw her opportunity…

Knor's eyelids had been drooping for a while, and now a yawn escaped his mouth… she had to admit that it was not much of an opportunity, but she took it anyway.

"Thorin, you have been traveling all day. Your companions require rest. I, and I am sure my compatriorts, would love to hear your tale, but would it not be wise to take rest first?" She prodded gently.

Thorin looked, rather startled, at Knor and Malron. They were making a valiant effort to stay alert, but it was readily apparent that they were exhausted.

Thorin nodded, rising from the table and announcing, "My cohorts require rest. We will be leaving you for the moment, I regret. But in the morrow we will see ye yet again, dear elf friends." 

And without any more ado, he turned and they all shuffled out of the door. As soon as it had shut, there was a collective sigh and Celeborn whispered a little too loudly, "I had heard that Dwarves were long-winded, but I certainly underestimated the meaning of those words."

A ripple of laughter crossed the room as elves began taking their leave to their own flets.

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Élharma, feeling rather at a loss, also took her leave, heading off to her rooms. Arriving there, she silently changed into a flowing nightgown and then lay down to rest. Unfortunately, her mind was unwilling to do as much, and for a long while she just lay there staring at the ceiling, the uneasiness in her heart nagging at her mind.

She needed to walk, to move, to…to… to… something… 

She donned her robe and began aimlessly wandering the halls of Caras Galadhon. It was not much of a surprise that she quickly found that she was staring at the soft ivory engravements in Haldir's doorframe.

She opened the door, and, as silent as a shadow, she crept in. She closed the door without as much as a squeak from the well-oiled hinges and turned to access the interior of the room.

In the center of the room stood, just as she had intended, a finely-wrought bathing tub, still sprinkled with rose petals, though some had been bruised and others had sank to the bottom of the now-cold water, so she knew that it had been used… the soft green towel was laid lovingly over the small desk that she had set beside the white tub..

Her eyes wandered the room, and finally came to light upon the magnificent form that lay in repose upon the large bed. He was breathtaking… absolutely nude, his softly bronzed skin glowing a pale alabaster in the moonlight which flooded in from the large balcony doors at the other end of the room. Her love for him quickly drown out any other emotion that had earlier been crashing about in her mind… now the only thing that she could think about was…him.

She followed the high cheekbones, the prominent nose, his full, plump lips; her eyes traveled slowly down his finely wrought chest, rising and falling in slumberous tranquility, the rippling muscles of his stomach, the skin paler than that of his face and arms, appearing almost a silver in the moonbeams… her eyes caressed his rather impressive member, lax in his rest, and the velveted orbs therewith… down his muscular legs that ended in lightly flexed feet…

She moved closer, kneeling besides the bed for the very sight of his beauty caused her knees to turn to jelly…She could feast her hungry eyes on the very sight of him forever…

Then he moved, suddenly, and she had to suppress a squeal of surprise that came unbidden to her lips. Having quelled the rush of excitement that had clouded into her mind, she noticed that he was only dreaming, and had not waken; his movements had been in some wonderful dream.

A sudden, impulsive, rather evil smile lighted her face… as a rather malevolent idea rose into her head… 

In his sleep, Haldir gasped and a tremor ran through his body. He was having a rather…exciting dream; and she would make it an even more intense dream than he…normally… might have.

Élharma leaned over his skin, which flushed as she trailed a line of kisses across his stomach, relishing the way his muscles shifted impatiently under her lips. She glanced at his face, but he had not wakened. She continued her exploration, and was rewarded when his heart began pounding faster within his impeccable chest.

Haldir moaned, and Élharma sat back to study his rather… interesting condition. He must be having a wonderful dream. She hoped that it was of her that he was dreaming about…

She bent, on an impulse, and took him into her mouth… but only lightly, wrapping her lips around him and exploring further with her tongue. A rush of sound issued forth when Haldir's hips moved in need against the silken bedcovers. He had grown hard, but Élharma did not deepen her contact with him. She kept her touch light, teasing, trailing her tongue languidly down his shaft and around the head.

His breathing had become harsh, coming quickly, rasping as he moved against her lips. She finally gave into her own impulse and swallowed him fully, sucking against his impressive length. 

And all was, for a moment, still, and Élharma, afraid that he had awaken, detached herself from him and looked searchingly into his face. All that she found there was a look of utter and complete loss. 

A smile graced her lips… the power that she wielded over him coursing through her veins.

She resumed her previous… occupation, and the movement of his hips increased into a fervor. She switched from the light caresses of her lips and tongue to an almost ruthless swallowing against his entire length, taking him dangerously close to the blessed release that she was quickly bringing him to.

Suddenly, Élharma pulled away … She looked down at Haldir, still sleeping, and pulled a light coverlet over his naked, needy body before fleeing silently and suddenly from his room.

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Haldir watched her depart, quelling the urge to call out, incredibly curious about the reason for her sudden departure.

He had been awakened from his dream to find out that it was not just a dream, that the sensations that he had been feeling had been real, that she was there, her lips against his bared skin… but he did not reveal his wakefulness, knowing that she would flee…

The reason for the sudden departure of his love became apparent when a knock reverberated through his flet.

"HALDIR!" 

It was Rúmil's voice.

"HALDIR WAKE UP!"

He sounded frightened.

"Yes?" Haldir said, thankful for Élharma's consideration of the coverlet, "Come in Rúmil."

The door burst open and Rúmil tumbled in, his face flushed.

"She's gone…"

Haldir was still working out of his 'dream', "What? Who? Slow down Rúmil… Who's gone?"

Rúmil did not calm down. With a crazed glaze over his eyes, he replied, "Jillathia!"

(For those of you who don't remember, it is Rúmil's young daughter… see "heartsong")

To Be continued…

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I'm evil… ha ha ha ha!

Please, please, please review! I desperately need it! I so have had writers block! ACK! ANY suggestions, no matter what they are, would be greatly appreciated!

Oh, and I know that Jillathia is not an elvish name… that will later be explained…


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